


The Trees

by OnyxBird



Series: The Best Lies [2]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor, References to Bob Ross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxBird/pseuds/OnyxBird
Summary: Neal shows his colleagues a collection of his paintings. Paintings which are definitely not forgeries (did he mentionnot forgeries?). One of them is not quite what the team expected...
Series: The Best Lies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817608
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	The Trees

Peter had an odd look on his face as he beckoned Neal into his office. Neal wasn't sure whether he should be concerned. Peter usually had a similar look when he was trying to hide his amusement at something Neal had done long enough to scold him for it, but Neal couldn't think of anything he had done recently that was scold-worthy. Unless they had uncovered additional evidence from one of his _previous_ crimes...It was probably best just to let Peter tell him what was going on.

Diana and Jones were already waiting. Neal smiled and took the open chair. "New case?" he asked.

"Not...exactly," said Peter. He was using his very cautious tone, too, the one he used when he knew what he was about to say was going to go to Neal's head. Or give him ammunition for teasing. Or "give him ideas."

Neal waited for a few seconds to see if Peter was going to continue. "So...what is it, 'exactly'?"

Peter sighed. "We need a painting." Neal raised an eyebrow, waiting for more details. "Specifically, another team needs a painting that could be... _mistaken_ for the work of a famous artist. But _not_ a forgery," he said, one finger raised warningly at Neal, who was starting to smile. " _Not_ a forgery," he repeated.

Neal grinned. "What artist do you want people to 'mistake' it for, and how closely are people going to be looking at it? And _who_ is going to be looking at it?"

"An artist whose work would sell for a lot of money. We want something that would draw a reasonably knowledgeable art enthusiast across the room for a closer look. It doesn't need to actually stand up to that closer look. Can you do it?"

"Actually," said Neal, "I think I already have it."

Peter, Diana, and Jones stared at him incredulously. Neal shrugged innocently. "What? You don't like me being prepared?"

Peter sighed again. "It's not so much that you're prepared that bothers me. It's wondering what you were preparing _for_."

…

Neal unlocked the door of the storage unit where he stored his hobby paintings. His colleagues were obviously curious. They knew Neal wouldn't have brought them if he was keeping forgeries tucked away here, but they weren't really sure what to expect instead. Neal flipped on the light and walked over to a stack of canvases and started to flip through them. "Come take a look. Several of these would probably work. I've got a Degas—a painting in the _style_ of a Degas, that is. _Not_ a forgery of actual Degas, of course, and completely lacking any semblance of Degas' signature" he added to Peter.

"Of course," agreed Peter, shaking his head, "because you'd never do such a thing."

"—and one in the style of Da Vinci," Neal continued blithely. "And one in the style of Monet—"

"Oh, that one's nice!" Peter commented.

Neal stopped flipping through the canvases and pulled out the Monet-style painting. "You like the Monet?"

Peter looked startled, as if he was just realizing what he'd said. "Oh. I didn't mean that's the right one for the job, necessarily. I'm not sure which would work best. I just—" He looked sheepish. "That one's pretty."

Neal smiled. "Thank you."

Jones interrupted suddenly. "Ok, Caffrey. I guess I get why you'd have a bunch of paintings in the 'style' of other painters. You keep in practice without anyone being able to pin a forgery charge on you...But what is _this_ one?"

Peter and Diana came over to look at the canvas Jones had pulled out. It was a landscape painting, a beautiful blue sky over a nice flowery meadow surrounded by a forest. They pondered it in silence for a few moments. Neal pondered it with them. He seemed somewhat embarrassed.

Diana finally broke the silence. "There is something creepy about that forest."

"I know," said Jones. The silence continued.

"The rest of it seems so cheerful."

"I know." More silence.

"Neal? Whose style _is_ this supposed to be?"

Neal hesitated, and finally spoke: "Bob Ross."

His three colleagues stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Neal sighed and decided there was no point in stopping now. "I had this weird dream. For some bizarre reason, Mozzie and I were trying to forge a Bob Ross painting. Don't ask me what we were planning to do with it; I have no idea. All I remember is that Mozzie kept making me start over because the trees 'weren't happy enough.'"

Diana choked back a strangled sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Neal smiled wryly. "I know. It was _weird_ dream. Anyway, the next day I was still irritated with the whole concept of 'happy little trees,' and I painted this on a whim to see if I could paint 'angry little trees' instead."

"Angry little trees," repeated Jones, looking at the painting again. "'Angry' isn't quite the description I would have used. _Homicidal_ little trees maybe. Psycho little trees planning to slit your throat in a dark valley. But I guess we can go with 'angry.'"

Diana took a step to the right, then a couple of steps to the left, then back to the right, never taking her eyes off the painting. "It's like one of those paintings where the eyes seem to follow you. Wherever you go, the psycho little trees are _watching_."

Neal gave her a slightly disturbed look. "Diana, they don't have eyes. They're just trees."

She smirked. "I know," she said, raising her eyebrows, "That's what makes it so creepy."

"Ok, now you're just making fun of me."

"Yes, I am," she admitted. "But really," she said, shaking her head, "those are some _seriously_ creepy little trees."


End file.
